


Pickles and Portraiture

by lirin



Category: Get Smart (1965), White Collar
Genre: Community: intoabar, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: The old "Go into the bar, order a beer, sketch the bad guy, and hope you don't need to mention geraniums" trick.





	Pickles and Portraiture

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt was "Neal Caffrey goes into a bar and meets... Siegfried (Get Smart)!"

"We're assisting CONTROL on this one," Peter said, "but you don't answer to them; you answer to me. Both of the agents deployed to the bar for backup are CONTROL, though."

"I've put 86 and 99 on this case," the Chief of CONTROL added. "They're two of my best agents."

"And if you need any more help, we'll all be right here," Peter said. He gestured with his head at the agents crowding the van. With the multiple CONTROL agents added to the usual assortment of FBI agents, the van was standing room only...or at least it would have been, if the roof had been high enough for anyone to stand up. Cautiously, Neal started to push his way towards the doors at the back of the van.

"If you want my agents' assistance, just use the code word," the Chief told him.

Neal glanced back at him. "The code word?"

"Today's code word is 'geranium'. So if you bring up geraniums in your conversation with the target, Agents 86 and 99 will immediately come to your assistance."

"Right," Neal said. "I'll keep geraniums in mind." He raised an eyebrow at Peter, but Peter didn't seem inclined to countermand the Chief's orders or to offer any other code-words, so he would be stuck with floral conversational gambits. Neal wished he'd at least had a chance to meet the two CONTROL agents so he'd be able to recognize them in the bar. But if the mission went as planned, he would never even need to meet them. The mission was low complexity and low risk. All Neal had to do was find the target and make the sale. No pyrotechnics and no fighting needed; nothing but good honest social engineering. With a final wave to the van in general and Peter in specific, he climbed out onto the street and headed around to the bar's front entrance.

 

The bar was called "The Pickled Cauliflower". Neal knew nothing about it except that CONTROL had assured him that KAOS's Vice President of Public Relations and Terror, Konrad Siegfried, was one of its most loyal habitues. He had therefore expected it to be a dark and menacing sort of place, the sort of bar where only bad guys felt comfortable hanging out. (He had been assured that Siegfried was "one of the bad guys", although frankly he had been able to guess that from the man's job title.) Instead, "The Pickled Cauliflower" was bright and airy, with striped wallpaper and lots of potted plants. It smelled a bit odd, though—that was probably the pickles.

Two men were sitting at the far end of the bar. Both wore uniforms; the one on the left had gray hair and a small scar on his cheek, just as Neal had been told to look for. He pulled his eyes away from the men...it wouldn't do to have either of them notice his interest at this point. He sat down several seats away from them and ordered a beer. Peter had been rather insistent on that point: something about establishing a common ground with the target and not intimidating them with his 'snobby' taste. That was what Peter called it, at least; Neal preferred 'cultured'. With a sigh, Neal sipped dutifully at the swill the bartender handed him. Then he flipped open his sketchpad. Time to start phase one.

He leaned back casually on the bar stool, chewing on his pencil (a Faber-Castell that definitely deserved better). He gazed around the bar, apparently aimlessly. He wondered which of the other patrons were his backup. The amorous couple in the corner? No, as he watched, the man knocked over his soup tureen and both people dove frantically to catch it. Not nearly suave enough to be elite spies. Some of the old men playing poker in the corner? They looked like they'd all known each other forever, but maybe the CONTROL agents were skilled enough to gain the trust and friendship of strangers in a hurry. Or maybe the mysterious 86 and 99 were among the other scattered single patrons, two at individual tables and two more at the bar on the other side of Neal from his targets.

He'd been looking around long enough. Neal allowed his gaze to fall on Siegfried. He widened his eyes just a bit and gave a slight smile. Not too much—just expressing general pleasure, nothing out of the ordinary. Then he picked up his sketchpad and set to work quickly, committing the lines of Siegfried's face to paper.

"Vat are you doing?"

That was fast. Neal glanced up, broadening the smile now. "Nick Halden," he said, shifting the pencil into his left hand so he could hold out his right to shake. "I hope I'm not overstepping, sir, but your profile caught my eye—it's terribly distinguished—and I just had to sketch you. I've been trying to decide what to paint for my next portrait, and your face seems the perfect choice! Your face has such character to it. So much visual interest, and yet an innate attractiveness that is...well, it's marvelous actually."

Siegfried raised a quizzical eyebrow. "So you paint portraits?" he asked.

"We've been needing a new decoration for the wall of our headquarters!" Siegfried's companion put in excitedly. "A portrait of you would fit perfectly next to the KAOS crest."

"Shush!" Siegfried said, waving his hand stiffly. He turned back to Neal. "Tell me about your portraits."

Neal relaxed back into his chair. "I've been painting portraits for several years. When I started out and didn't have any money, I just painted anybody who wanted a portrait. But now I've established a bit of a name for myself...if I do say so myself..." He coughed modestly. Siegfried's face didn't move a muscle. "You can look me up; last year I painted a portrait of the mayor of New York for his personal collection. So now that I have the time, I only paint faces that interest me. Preferably faces of interesting people who can also pay for the portraits. Art supplies aren't cheap, you know."

"Hmmm," Siegfried said.

"I have a great idea, boss!" Siegfried's companion burst out. "Why don't you get Mr. Halden to paint your portrait! You stand in front of him—" He struck his idea of a heroic pose, hand on his hip, head thrown back and lips pooched out. "Mr. Halden immortalizes you in paint, swish shoosh swish—" He waved his arms at an imaginary canvas. "And you end up with the sort of decoration we could be proud to put on the wall of KAOS!"

"Shtarker!" Siegfried snapped. "Ve don't shush shoosh here!" He sighed and turned back to Neal. "Sorry about him, he gets a bit over-excited. I vould like to hear more about these portraits of yours."

"I start with a few sketches," Neal said. "I'm already halfway done with the first one." He flipped his sketchpad around so Siegfried could see it. "Once I have decided on the most flattering angle to depict you from, I take them back to my studio and begin painting. It really doesn't take long at all when I'm feeling inspired. And I'm feeling inspired right now. You have a very paintable face."

Siegfried smiled slightly. "You think so?"

"Definitely. Now, I almost hate to bring it up—as an artist I really wish I could be above such things—but there is also the small issue of payment."

"Surely there is enough in the KAOS slush fund for a portrait?" Shtarker volunteered.

Neal crossed his fingers mentally. The KAOS slush fund was exactly what CONTROL was after. Externally, he kept his face relaxed and put a few more strokes on the sketch. Siegfried looked like he needed time to make up his mind about this, and Neal didn't want to blow the deal by pushing too hard.

"How much do you charge for your portraits, Mr. Halden?" Siegfried asked.

"Down payment of only a thousand," Neal said. "After I've done the preliminary work, then we can discuss the size and extent of the finished portrait, and at that point we would determine the exact full cost."

"Fair enough," Siegfried said. He held out his hand, and Neal shook it. "Just let me write you a check."

 

While Siegfried was filling out the check, Neal put the finishing touches on his sketch and gave it to Siegfried as a gesture of good faith. He promised Siegfried he would return to the bar the next day to get started right away on the magnificent portrait.

Scooping up his few art supplies from the bar and leaving a tip—even though the almost nonexistent service, not to mention that atrocious beer, didn't really deserve one—Neal started to head for the door. Mission accomplished.

"Ve vere just leaving as vell," Siegfried said. "Let us accompany you."

Neal winced, but shrugged. He could make up an excuse to lose them easily enough once he got outside.

"What will you put in the background of the portrait?" Shtarker asked enthusiastically.

"Not sure," Neal said.

"How about flowers?" Shtarker suggested. "I've always liked flowers. Maybe hyacinth, or lilies, or—"

"I don't think that would be—"

"—or geraniums, or—"

"—a good idea," Neal finished sadly. "I don't think flowers would fit Mr. Siegfried's profile."

The couple in the corner had stood up suddenly at Shtarker's words, and now they were headed this way. Desperately, Neal darted for the door. Right as he opened it, he heard the man say, "Siegfried! What are you doing here?"

"Maxwell Shmart! Ve meet again. Und vat brings you to the Pickled Cauliflower?"

"Well, it's certainly not the food. Say, Siegfried—"

Neal let the door close behind him. It didn't sound like the agents (if that was indeed who they were) had blown his cover. Not that he would have expected them to; after all, CONTROL was said to have some of the best agents in the business.

 

Five minutes later, he was squeezed inside the FBI van and they were pulling into traffic, congratulating each other for a job well done. Neal thought he was by far the most deserving of congratulations, but from the cacophony there seemed to be plenty to go around, so there was no need to be mingy. Besides, Peter's smile when he handed him the check was all the congratulations he needed.

"CONTROL is very grateful," the Chief said, once Peter had handed the check on to him in turn. "With this information, we can finally track down KAOS's bank accounts. Let us know if we can do you a favor sometime. 86 and 99 don't have any current assignments; perhaps we could loan them to you if you need a hand with anything."

"How about it, Neal?" Peter said. "You seemed to work well enough with 86 and 99 today. How about if we have them join us on the Locksley art fraud case?"

Neal shrugged. He hadn't seen much of the two agents, but what he had seemed good enough. They were certainly skilled at undercover work; nobody seeing them fuss over that soup tureen would have ever suspected they were secret agents. "Sure," he said. What could go wrong?


End file.
